


I Had not Thought Death Had Undone So Many

by NeoSoul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bulimia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, sam isn't coping well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoSoul/pseuds/NeoSoul
Summary: Sam isn't coping well after Dean is sent to hell, but once Dean comes back, Sam doesn't exactly want (or know how) to stop.He isn't keen on having anyone find out either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk what, but I'm rewatching Supernatural, and both brothers give vibes of ED shit (just in coping ways, and a whole bunch of small things)  
> I think I'll explore the idea of Dean w an ED as well, but I'm only on S4 rn, and need more character study.

He had never meant for it to fall so far, no, he only wanted a bit of relief. The death of his father had already cracked him, and that was before the whole deal had been made.  
And now, the death of his brother, his beloved brother; the only family he had left. That, well, that split the cracks. He broke after keeping his walls up for so long. Everything was pent up, and everything has its’ limits.   
Sam, well, he cracked. He had no brother; he had no more family, and he was losing himself slowly. Everything seemed to grow to nothing, and at first the crack was just nothing.  
But nothing can come from nothing.  
There was something, and it manifested itself slowly. It started with eating nothing for a day or two, and then eating everything from the hunger. The cycle seemed to continue, until it began to morph. He began to eat, and with it, he still binged. The spike in weight caused him to start purging, to puke, and he was eating nothing outside of the binging and purging. He dropped enough weight for Ruby to notice, so it became a co-dependant thing. He ate enough for no one to notice, and still seemed to binge and purge far too often.  
He was a mess, a nightmare honestly. The binging stuffed it down, the purging brought it up and out. He wasn’t facing it, and he didn’t find a want to face it. He found the purging gave him a high, but it would become harder to get that same initial high he once had.   
Bobby wasn’t keen on this, and had only theories of what Sam was doing, but it was all he needed to know. It seemed just as he had figured Sam out, Sam had cut all contact with everyone. No one knew, and Sam was a nightmare.  
It seemed to only grow worse as Sam closed himself off. The only one who saw him in such a state was Ruby, and he found her oddly sympathetic for a demon. She had even confronted him many times.  
He denied all of them. Sam thought he was fine; that all this was fine. He wasn’t ill, he wasn’t thin, no he was the same as he maintained most of his life. He was fine, and this, it was not the worst thing he had done, far from it. His growing power seemed to help with nothing. He felt like a monster.  
When Dean had come back, it was an adjustment. The whole thing had stopped for a week. He was fine; he was completely fine.  
Until he found his body almost craving the feeling again. It had to be hidden now, as he couldn’t let Dean see how poorly he had coped. It would break his brother’s heart.  
Sam found himself sneaking during odd times, sometimes 3 am, and sometimes 2 pm. He would go out to convenience stores or dingy diners and eat what he could and then puke in the bathroom or outside. He knew if anything were to be done near Dean, it would be heard. He wasn’t a silent puker, unlike other folks. He was ugly, he was loud, and he hated it. He felt as if this was a monster, and just like him, it was getting stronger. To stop it was worse than to be so consumed.  
It was like an addiction, and withdrawals seemed to occur, even with nothing of substance.  
Bobby seemed to show concern, when on the phone, he would ask Sam, and each time it was a denial. Sometimes he’d ask Dean, but every time there was a mention in the room, Sam had an excuse for every question imaginable.   
He was a master at avoiding everything, and he swore this to secrecy with only himself.


	2. With a Dead Sound on the Final Stroke of Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new case, another day.  
> Sam is able to hide.
> 
> Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,  
> And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.  
> (T.S Eliot.)   
> (The Wasteland is quoted often)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awful at creating cases, so I'll probably use actual ones in the show  
> This one is actually created from a short story  
> "The Lottery"

Sam awoke with a not-so peculiar headache. The sheets of the motel bed were itchy, and the springs of the older-than-old mattress were digging into his back, which wasn’t awfully boney, but it still seemed to hurt. He inhaled deeply. His throat burned from the night before, but it wasn’t anything new. Something always ached at this point. He pulled himself into a sitting position.  
“Sleep ok?” Dean asked him, and Sam groaned.   
“Yeah, beautifully.” Sam croaked, his voice sore. A small cold chill fell over his body, so he reached straight for his jacket. The morning air was in the absolute peak of the fall.  
“I think I found something.” Dean stated, and Sam took a second to let the information sink in. The whole thing he did seemed to leave his brain in some fog.   
“What is it?” Sam asked. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for much, but that never mattered. He had to do it and deal with the consequences. He needed both the hunting and this thing. It seemed to keep him in control of himself as well, especially with the new rising threat of his power.   
Sam walked into the bathroom while awaiting an answer, so he could brush his teeth; his yellow, disgusting teeth. If one would see them, it gave everything away. Sam couldn’t let anyone see them.  
“Odd deaths, missing persons, the usual.” Dean stated. Sam finished brushing and walked back to the main are of the motel.   
“Any details, that literally could be anything.” Sam asked, as he put his shoes on.   
“Breakfast?” Dean asked, and Sam sighed. He wasn’t hungry, especially not after last night. He just sighed. It was part of the problem. The food was not like narcotics, or alcohol, or whatever other vices people found. It was a part of keeping him alive. He couldn’t just stop eating, suffer withdrawals, and be fine. He had to somehow keep himself alive, while he fed the addiction, or stop either of them.  
“Yeah, fine.” Sam said. He finished packing the bags in their room, and headed to the door. Dean shrugged and followed. Sam found a wave of dizziness wash over him, again. He stopped for just a second, making sure he had full balance.  
Dean stopped and noticed.  
“You good?” He asked, and Sam nodded. His lips felt so awfully chapped; it was not a good feeling when they formed words, but it came with what he did. He couldn’t hate the side effects when the purging made him feel so damn good.  
It made him feel human for once, as he found his powers just awfully growing.  
“Yeah, fine. I’m still tired.” Sam said, and kept walking to the car. He had been having symptoms show up around Dean, and he did find himself having the odd weight fluctuation.  
10 lbs up, then 15 lbs down, then back to 10 lbs up, but they settled around the same. It seemed it all happened slow enough that Dean hadn’t noticed, and Sam vowed to keep it that way.  
But this thing, oh, it was a sneaky bastard. It snuck ideas into his head that even he found ridiculous. He found the thoughts more than just a coping mechanism now. He found himself hating himself. He truly did. It was illogical, yet completely logical. Nothing made sense now, and even though he had no desire to drop weight, he found the thing, it fed the thought into his head.  
The two drove to a nearby diner, and Dean ordered his very usual breakfast, and Sam, well nothing. He wasn’t keen on eating so soon again, not after the night before. This wasn’t so uncommon, and at this point this was normal. Dean stopped caring, and so Sam carried on.  
“So you think you have a case.” Sam asked, and Dean pointed to an article.  
“Here. A man dead in his house, no sign of outside breakage, it’s probably some form of spirit.” Dean pointed out. Sam couldn’t help but agree; that was usually sign of a spirit, mostly a vengeful spirit. It was another case, and one they’d seen before. He wasn’t too worried; it should be a simple task.  
“Let’s stop by the Sheriff’s, ask around.” Sam suggested, and found himself already getting ready to leave. Dean looked at him with a piece of sandwich in his mouth.  
“Hey, let me finish first though.” Dean spouted, and Sam gave a couple side-to-side nods with his head. He sat back down. His fingers seemed to tap, not vigorously, but loud and fast enough to make Dean look up.  
“Are you sure you’re ok?” Dean asked, and Sam quickly stopped. He looked up.  
“Yeah, fine.” Sam said, his voice blunt. A sign that he was not ready for discussion. Sam knew that Dean knew that something was wrong, but the atmosphere at the moment was of silence. No questions, not until Sam was ready to admit anything.   
The two finished in the diner and drove a few hours into upstate New York, and almost to the canadian border. The small town they were in seemed so barren. Some dingy diners, a single grocery store, and other small-town necessities. The ritualistic nature of the town was just that. It was barren, cold, and awfully dead. The inhabitants seemed the same. Sam could feel it from the receptionist at the motel. Something was up with the town, that was obvious.  
The motel room was dingy, just like the town, but it was clean enough to sleep in for  
night or two. It was early afternoon at this point, and Sam felt the same hunger from the night before. Burning almost, but not intensely enough. He could wait, but not for long. It would be assumedly better to do it now. He could do some asking around, while asking Dean to research, to keep him away for just enough time. He could get some answers, go to a diner and do what he needed to do.  
Foolproof.  
Sam went into the town, and started a bit of a hunt. He was looking for answers, as well as the perfect spot.   
Folks around the town seemed almost terrified of Sam, just as they had barely seen anyone outside of their own inhabitants, and the inhabitant family lines. It could only be a few seperate lines, just constantly going through.  
He asked around, but found nothing. A few angry deaths back in the day, somehow all had been stoned to death. Could be one of those. He wasn’t sure.   
Sam went into one of the two dingy diners in the town. He sat in one of the booths, and he ordered far too much.   
It seemed to others that he was insane. He wasn’t supposed to be like this, but to him, it was just business.  
He scarfed the food down just a bit too quickly, and escaped to the bathroom. He locked himself in a stall and like clockwork, he shoved his own two fingers into his throat, and puked what he could up. The sooner the better, as the food would still be in his stomach, and it would all come up.  
Sam finished in the bathroom, his throat burning just a bit, and his fingers; red and raw.   
He washed his mouth from the taste. It was awfully sour, acidic, and disgusting. He was used to it by now, just an aftermath of the relief.  
Sam drove back to the motel with both answers and the purging high. He felt great, a bit dizzy, but great.   
“I think I have a lead.” Sam stated as he walked in, and Dean looked up, concern plastered on his face.  
“Woah, dude, you ok? You look even worse than this morning.” Dean pointed out, and Sam shrugged.  
“A bit of a day, but yeah, I’m fine.” Sam lied.   
The red on his knuckles had started bleeding just a bit, but he had enough excuses. Everything would remain a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know thoughts  
> can't make it better without outside eyes and readers


	3. O You Who Turn the Wheel and Look To Windward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some close-calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided on shorter chapters as the format

Sam was a loud puker. It was true, and at this point he was desperate. Dean could come back any moment, and Sam was still hunched over the toilet, mid-purge. He was brawling with himself, his stomach, and his time.   
Sam shoved both his fingers down his throat another time. Panicked. The extra jolt from the panic seemed to be all he needed to puke the last few bits up. Sam quickly flushed the toilet as Dean walked through the motel door. Sam washed his mouth from the acid.  
“Sam?” Dean asked, and Sam opened the bathroom door.   
“Yeah?” He asked, and Dean quickly covered his nose. Sam noticed the smell remained. He quickly made a few excuses.  
“What’s that smell? Did you take a massive shit or something?” Dean asked, and Sam shrugged.   
“You could say that.” Sam explained, and Dean looked over. His face both disgruntled and concerned.  
“What do you mean?” Dean asked, and Sam looked up, he was hiding his knuckles with the sleeve of his jacket.  
“Nothing, I meant you were right.” Sam stated, hoping it would bring up no other questions. It was a viable excuse, and Dean seemed pretty oblivious to all of it.  
“Alright,” Dean stated. He slapped some papers onto one of the beds.  
“I got some leads on this thing.” Dean stated, and Sam walked over. His head seemed to hurt again. He mildly collapsed his weight onto his arms. Dean took slight notice but thought nothing of it.  
“What’d you find?” Sam asked. His eyes caught the red marks on his knuckles. They were so intensely red from the fact that he had just purged. It was far too obvious, but he also knew it was fine. He had excuses lined up for anything.  
“My assumption is a shapeshifter, it’s almost obvious. Not sure what else it could be.” Dean stated. Sam looked through the evidence of safety cameras and written witnesses. The eyes gave it all away for sure, and he groaned.  
“I hate shapeshifters. Real annoying creatures.” Sam sighed. He had no energy, and to fight a shapeshifter would be so terribly draining.  
“We got the silver, so now we find this thing. It probably changed form by now.” Dean stated, and Sam just turned the other way. He went straight to the laptop.  
“They usually stay underground, so we could just search the sewers. It may give us some insight on who this thing may be.” Dean suggested. Sam found himself almost puking in his mouth a bit. Shapeshifter skin that was left behind, it was never pretty, or at all seeable. He hated knowing that it existed.  
“We have to search for the skin, again?” Sam asked, the disgust so apparent in his voice. Dean looked over at Sam.  
“Assuming you don’t like the skin.” Dean stated, and Sam nodded. He almost shivered at the thought.  
“Not too fond of it.” Sam stated, and kept looking through his laptop, hoping to avoid the sewers.  
But Dean was insistent, so Sam sighed and followed him to the car. The weight of his legs seemed to have increased. It was a side effect, he knew that. The side effect was undesirable, but it was something he just had to deal with. Sam sat quite silently, his hands half hidden in his sleeve.  
“Hey, Sammy. What are those marks on your knuckles. They look gnarly.” Dean asked. Sam’s heart rate picked up. He looked down at the awfully red marks. The abrasion had gone down, but not by a lot. He took a breath.  
“I was shoved, remember. Probably from the whole being shoved against a wall thing, you know.” Sam explained, and awaited the reaction. The lie seemed realistic enough, but he needed to be sure.  
“Interesting.” Dean observed, and Sam just retreated his knuckles and looked out the window. He kept the distance to keep the secrets. If he let Dean in, it would be ugly; he assumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also if ur compelled to leave feedback, pls do  
> or any form of comment


	4. Winter Kept Us Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam doesn't quite know how loud he purges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still figuring the characters out, but hopefully it'll be better

Sam found himself pinned against a wall again, this time it wasn’t a demon; just a spirit with some spite. He just waited for Dean to finish with the bones, and then it would be over. To survive was inevitable. He had little energy, so fending would be awful work, but he had to do it. He just fought to remain conscious until the spirit burned in front of his eyes.  
He hit the floor with a far too loud thud. Dean burst through the door, and pulled Sam from the floor.  
“You ok?” Dean asked, and Sam nodded, slowly. He found himself almost losing his balance, but saved it with a large step to the right. The odd dizziness seemed to be more frequent now. Sam wasn’t keen on it, but he didn’t hate it either; it just came with what he did.  
“Yeah, it’s just a bit of blood.” Sam stated, as he wiped some off of his face. It was definitely not a small amount of it. He followed Dean back to the car. The blood loss was absolutely not helping the dizziness. Sam remained silent as the two drove back to the motel. He fought himself the whole way back.  
To purge, to binge, or eat nothing.   
He had no clue what he was feeling. It tended to be the dictator of his habits, and he found that the absence of feeling was the one he avoided. He ran away from it.  
Sam could go out and just do what he did, or he could let the feeling of hunger settle to give him a feeling that was something painful, and not something close to a high. A different feeling.  
It was awfully inconvenient now.  
Sam fought just a bit and went to bed, exhausted. He wouldn’t have the energy for anything anyway. He had already done it in the afternoon. It was becoming more frequent. The 24-hour wait seemed to be less of a requirement. He found himself giving in far more often.  
Sam slept through the night; his stomach seemed no problem to him. It protested for a bit and then went away on its’ own.  
He awoke in the morning with no hunger, but an extremely intense urge to binge and purge, again. He would need to hold off on it, as breakfast was usually something they would both eat. He couldn’t just eat everything and run to puke it. He had to hide it from Dean, and he probably could. It might be a good thing to eat everything in front of him. It would take Dean off of his back. To purge would be hard. He would have to somehow mask the sound.  
“Sammy, Bobby may have a lead on Lilith.” Dean stated as he put his shoes on. Sam looked up.  
“Are we going now then?” Sam asked. Dean gave a nod as he packed the bag he had brought in.  
“Well, after breakfast. There’s a place across the street.” Dean told Sam, who groaned and got dressed. He felt the pit in his stomach grow, and the hunger became a bit painful. He had to do this now, otherwise it would be a nightmare.   
The two wandered into the diner and sat. Sam found himself nervously tapping his fingers. It was common now, especially around Dean and food. Dean seemed to stop caring about his ticks, and just let them happen.   
“Where is Lilith again?” Sam asked after ordering just a bit too much to go unnoticed. Dean had given him a bit of a look.  
“Paoli, Indiana. Six hours from here.” Dean said. Sam sighed, the long drive was inevitable, and after four hours in the car, the two of them usually argued about something, and everyday he feared the topic of food would come up. He was good at skewing the conversation, but not when Dean argued. He couldn’t ignore those, as they seemed to strike him so differently.  
The food came, and Sam sat with enough food for many in front of him. Dean looked up.  
“Finally hungry, huh?,” He asked, and Sam just nodded shyly. He wanted to just steer the conversation. Sam gave Dean a look and started eating. He tried to slow it down enough to seem normal. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, not, it’s quite the opposite.” Dean tried to defend himself, but Sam kept the same glare, so he shut up.  
Sam went and finished pretty much the entire lot of food, and his stomach felt just as it usually did. He excused himself to the bathroom. It was fast, and the bathroom was just a single stall. He quickly leaned over the toilet and shoved his fingers down his throat.  
The same ugly noises came out, and so did the food. He just hoped that no one had heard him, especially not Dean. That would be a nightmare.  
Sam washed up, the usual routine, and walked back out.   
He sat back at the table; his hands still shaking just a bit. Dean had his eyes on Sam with a look that Sam had seen before.  
He sighed and prepared excuses.


	5. Son of Man, You Cannot Say, or Guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh  
> college is back so I'll be decently busy

Four hours into the six-hour drive, and Sam had been silent for a lot of it. He had asked a few questions about location, but nothing much else. He knew that Dean knew, and he knew that Dean was thinking of how to ask.  
It was obvious.  
Sam remained silent; he awaited Dean to make the move. The air was so stale, and so heavy. He tapped his fingers on the side of the window, awaiting the conversation.  
That never seemed to happen. He waited for a deafening hour, and then sighed.  
“Say what you need to say. Just say it all, I’m tired of this damn elephant in the room.” Sam stated, his voice raising just a bit. Dean’s shoulders seemed to tense and then drop immensely. Sam braced himself for a barrage of questions.   
“Are you ok?” Dean asked, and Sam lifted his face just a bit. He contemplated just lying again, but to keep his brother in the dark for so long seemed to weigh on his soul.   
The truth was terrifying, it was so awfully terrifying, but to keep it a secret was probably going to kill him.  
Yet he had to, he goddamn had to.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam stated. He had lied. It was odd; he couldn’t somehow explain what was happening. Dean would need to interrogate.  
“You’re obviously not fine, and you know it.” Dean stated, his voice rising. Sam ran a hand through his hair, which seemed to be losing strands, even if he wasn’t losing masses of weight. It was odd.  
“What would you even know?” Sam asked. His voice raised as well. The two seemed to always argue when they truly cared for one another. Sam wasn’t fond of it, but it was always done with good intentions.  
“You know exactly, the sounds, all of them. I’ve heard you more than once. Maybe you were sick, but now it seems different. I’ve seen the evidence, the bruises, the marks on your knuckles, the way your body fluctuates. I’m not stupid, so tell me, what is it?” Dean asked. Sam fiddled with his feet, trying to fit the length of his legs into the floor of the impala. He was mainly just doing it from nervousness, as confrontation made him feel such.  
“I just…I don’t know. I started doing it after you went to hell, to cope, and after you came back, well the feeling is addicting.” Sam opened up. The re-living of the months where Dean had been in hell seemed to sting his eyes with tears. He hated that it seemed he was the one struggling, yet Dean had been awake for what he did see in hell. It was obvious both of them were keeping secrets, and Sam’s was just a bit more obvious.  
“Sammy, what exactly are you doing? There’s obviously more to it.” Dean stated. His voice had less rage and more just a demand. Sam took another deep inhale. Panic had started to set in. This was real, and Dean was about to find out everything that he hid, well, he had already figured it out, now it was just being solidified.   
“You already know, don’t you.” Sam stated. He couldn’t seem to say it out loud, but agreed to everything Dean was saying. He was absolutely losing it, and to think Dean hadn’t noticed. He was, in a way, stupid for thinking that.   
“Oh yeah, I absolutely do. I need you to be the one to tell me.” Dean exclaimed. His voice now more irritated. Sam found himself just sighing deeply.   
“I’m not sure what it’s called, and if it’s even something at all, Dean, it’s almost as foreign as my damn demon blood, you know.” Sam spoke, his voice rose as well.   
“Bulimia.” Dean said, his voice now soft, almost terrified. Sam looked over.  
“What?” He asked. He was confused. The words were not those which he knew. An unfamiliar phrase, just like this thing.  
“What you’re doing, it’s called bulimia...I learned about it during school. I think once you got to the age, they had changed the curriculum.” Dean explained. Sam found himself observing the horrid scars on his knuckles. He noticed how the red seemed so angry to him. He had never noticed that before, but now it was so apparent.   
“Great, so it’s something real, and now what? I’m still just as addicted.” Sam stated. It was obvious that this pained Dean just as much as himself.   
“I don’t know, I really don’t, but it has to stop before it kills you, Sammy. I don’t want to watch you die, again.” Dean stated, and Sam just sighed.  
“I know.” He said.  
He found that the whole conversation made it worse, and all he wanted to do once they finished with Lilith was to do it all again.


	6. The Dead Tree Gives No Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam continues his habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayy, I'm back, school is real busy

Nothing had changed, at least not with Sam. He was not changing, even with Dean knowing. Sam just became good at hiding the sounds. He found he was able to purge with just a bit of pressing the stomach. It made the sound much quieter. He knew the sound was all that gave him away, so to change it was what he needed to do.  
He found the liquid residue of the puke on his lips. It was horrid, bitter, and acidic. He wiped it with his hand, and then washed his mouth out.   
“Hello Sam.” He heard, and Sam perked up, his heart racing. It wasn’t a male’s voice, so it wasn’t that angel Cas or Dean. It could only be Ruby. He turned.  
“What do you want?” He asked. Ruby looked at him with her usual look of almost seductivity.   
“I see you haven’t stopped this. Interesting.” She stated, her intentions still mysterious. Sam sighed.   
“No, it’s not that simple, now go before Dean figures I’m still doing it.” Sam said, frustrated. Ruby caressed a finger across his swollen cheeks.  
“This can kill you, you know that, right?” Ruby said, and Sam just nodded.  
“I’m aware, but really, I’m not ready right now, to stop. Go.” Sam commanded, and Ruby just sighed.   
“Fine, but if you end up in the hospital because of this, I told you so.” She stated, and then disappeared. Sam took a breath, and he flushed the toilet. His panic seemed to become heightened, as he knew Dean would be back soon, after doing some questioning on a case.  
Sam walked back out to the room, and he went to work on some research, to pretend nothing was happening.  
The door opened, and Dean walked in with some food. The rustling of the bag almost terrified Sam.  
“Find anything?” Sam asked. Dean placed the bag beside Sam on the desk.  
“Yeah, some werewolf, again, I think. It all makes sense. We’ll need to get into the morgue though, to see if it adds up.” Dean stated, and Sam closed his laptop.  
“What time were you thinking?” Sam asked, and Dean shrugged.  
“Later afternoon, they’ll be tired, easier to sneak,” Dean stated. Sam had to agree, and he looked in the bag of food. Dean looked over. “You hungry?” Dean asked. Sam quickly pulled away.  
“No, not really.” Sam stated. He was in no way wanting food at this point. Sam went back to his computer. He was reading a bit more on the case. Dean went to search for something in the drawers.  
“You’ve lost weight, you know.” Dean stated, his voice seemed a bit distant, and there was absolute sadness in it as well. Sam just kept his eyes on the screen.  
“Yeah, it happens.” Sam stated. Dean walked back over.  
“Yeah, maybe a few pounds. You’ve lost more than that. It’s concerning.” Dean said, and Sam sighed. He had not lost more than a few pounds. Ten at the most, his usual fluctuation. It was only the heightened watching of his food and body that made it apparent.  
“Ten, it’s only ten, and you’ve seen it before. It’s not the first time Dean.” Sam stated. He found anger boiling, but for no reason. He had no reason to be angry. Dean was only concerned.  
“Something’s going on. I know you. So what is it? You still throwing up?” Dean asked, and Sam quickly shook his head.   
“No, no, I’m not. Look, I’m fine. I promise. I’m just eating less, food isn’t exactly the most normal thing as a hunter.” Sam stated. His fingers were shaking, and the bruises on his knuckles seemed to be far more apparent than just a few days before.   
“Sammy, you better not be lying.” Dean stated, and then grabbed the keys to the Impala.  
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, and Dean paused.  
“Let’s go to the morgue now, get it done, and then we can hunt the beast at night.” Dean stated. He grabbed the bag of food. Sam sighed, and he got up from the chair. He grabbed his jacket and the motel key.   
The two got into the Impala. Dean got into the driver’s seat, and Sam sat beside the food. His whole being was torn. He wanted the food, he really wanted it all, and then to puke it. He found himself wanting to do the whole thing more and more. It was like every addiction.  
A monster, and it would just get worse.  
Dean drove to the morgue, and Sam just sat. The food beside him seemed to panic him. He just stared out the window.  
“You’ll tell me, right? If you do throw up again?” Dean asked, and Sam was taken aback by the question. He looked over to Dean.  
“Of course.” He lied. The Impala pulled into a parking lot.  
“You better, I don’t want this to be what kills you again.” Dean stated, and the two walked into the building, their IDs at ready. Dean was the one who could talk through anything, so Sam let him get them into the morgue.  
“Alright, let’s see.” Dean stated, and he pulled out one of the bodies. It was pretty obviously a werewolf attack. The marks were obvious, and the heart was missing. Typical. Sam found himself feeling uneasy, but for no reason. He literally saw this all the time, and this was making him feel sick.  
He felt ridiculous.  
“Alright, so we gotta catch this thing, but how?” Sam asked, and Dean shrugged.  
“We ask around. They strike at night, we’ve got a few hours.” Dean stated, as they walked back out. Anything could happen in those few hours.   
Sam was absolutely terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment thoughts, or feedback, or anything  
> I'm always open


	7. Heaps of Broken Images

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two end up at Bobby's

Sam found himself at another diner with Dean in the early morning, it was far too early for food, but Dean seemed so adamant. Sam just sighed as he looked at the menu. Nothing seemed safe. Sam found himself just shaking his head and putting down the menu. Dean looked up.  
“You’re not going to eat?” He asked, and Sam just shrugged.  
“I didn’t like anything.” Sam stated. Dean sighed. The silence between them seemed to loom. Sam could tell he would not get away with it at this point.  
“We’re stopping at a gas station before heading to Bobby’s, get something there. I’m not letting you just not eat for another day.” Dean stated. Sam just nodded, and when the waitress came up, he went and ordered some coffee, it helped the hunger that seemed to burn just a bit. It would keep the urge to binge at bay as well, at least for a bit. He could buy some binge food, and then do it in secret at Bobby’s. Dean still didn’t know that Sam was still puking. It was supposed to stay that way, and he was doing a damn well job.  
Before he could finish his thoughts, a cup of black coffee was in front of him. He found his stomach just a bit uneasy. He sighed. Dean was already working his way through a stack of pancakes when Sam looked up. He found himself watching. He was hungry, as always, but if he ate, he would binge, and then have to puke. It wasn’t helping his case, as Dean noticed the weight loss. He had lost more than the usual fluctuation, and it was noticeable. He could tell. It wasn’t alarming, no, he was still completely healthy, but he was smaller; He wasn’t sure if he liked it.  
He sipped at the coffee while observing his brother finish the pancakes. He found his stomach seem to almost be plagued with nausea again, but it wasn’t dire enough to puke.   
Sam finished the coffee, and Dean had finished the pancakes, so the two got up. Dean paid the bill, and they went out to the car. Dean insisted he drive, and Sam just accepted it. He sat in the passenger seat. Sam was fiddling with the skin on his fingers as they drove off. Dean seemed to be far too invested in Sam’s actions, but he had to side-eye from the driver’s seat. Sam just continued, as it seemed to comfort him.  
Dean had stopped the car in front of a gas station, and he opened his door.  
“Go, get yourself some food.” Dean stated, so Sam walked through the door. He grabbed what he could, as well as what he assumed would be good binge food later, and one thing for the four-hour trek to Bobby. It would keep Dean from bothering him.  
Sam went to pay for it, and he watched Dean, who was still buying some food as well. He just found himself almost excited for later, as he could probably do the whole thing in peace. He hoped so, at least. Bobby was pretty suspicious, but he was good at hiding.  
Sam went back to the car once Dean was done, and the two continued onward. Sam reached into the bag of food and pulled out some sandwich, hoping it would be enough to make Dean happy. He unwrapped it, and began to eat it. He noticed the odd habit he had acquired of picking apart his sandwiches. It was a new habit, but so small that it seemed nothing malicious. Just a habit.  
“Do you think Bobby has any answers? You know about this creature?” Sam asked, and Dean shrugged.  
“Not sure, but why not go over, get some needed rest, and a break. It’ll be nice. He should have some answers as well.” Dean explained. Sam finished the first half of the sandwich, and he felt his stomach already turning. Odd, but not new.  
“True, the motel beds don’t treat one very well.” Sam stated, as he began ripping apart the second half of the sandwich. Dean had his brows furrowed, and Sam found it unnerving.  
“Is the ripping apart an eating thing? Or?” Dean asked, and Sam looked down. He quickly shook his head.  
“Oh no, I honestly am not sure where it came from.” Sam stated. He put the wrapper back in the plastic bag.  
“Ah, well.” Dean stated, and the two remained silent for a bit, as Sam went to do research on the case. It was some form of spirit, as well as assumedly a demon, and Dean had other theories, so they were checking up with Bobby before continuing.  
“So, this thing, what do you really think it is?” Sam asked, after an awkward two hours.  
“Probably just a real weird spirit, but could also be a demon.” Dean explained.   
“I didn’t see the eyes, they would’ve gone after us, had they been a demon.” Sam stated, and Dean just shrugged.  
“Probably, but we can’t rule it out.” Dean stated. Sam agreed, and then the silence continued. The time moved, and four hours later, the two pulled into the front of Bobby’s place. Sam held the food close as he got out of the car. He stretched his legs a bit, and then followed Dean to the door. He knocked.  
The locks opened after a quick look, and Bobby gave them a real calm smile. He invited them inside. Sam went to stand by the couch, and Dean reclined on it. Bobby walked back in with some food. Sam found his breath hitching.  
“I know you guys are probably hungry.” Bobby explained, and Sam just looked at the floor while Dean gave a nod. Sam could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, so he would have to eat, but he was planning to anyway. It just wouldn’t stay down. Dean followed Bobby into the kitchen, and Sam reluctantly trailed behind. He leaned onto the wall of the kitchen while Dean ate. He found himself hungry, yes, but he wasn’t hungry enough to ruin his day.  
He was wanting to lose weight, but he wasn’t sure why.  
“Sam, you sure you’re not hungry? You’ve lost weight.” Bobby stated. Sam just looked down, and then back at the dull walls.  
“I’m fine, thanks.” Sam said, his voice was slight, but that wasn’t unnatural for him. He retreated to the old room he slept in. The bathroom was close, and closed off from the first floor. He assumed it was a safe spot.  
He placed the bag of food in the room, and the hunger pulled him into eating. He found it almost too casual, far too casual. He just ate until his stomach felt like it would break, and he retreated into the bathroom. He went to turn the sink water on, so the sound was masked. He pushed his stomach, and then shoved a finger into his throat to puke. He puked up most of what he ate with ease. It had become easier now, and much quieter. He went to wash his mouth out, and the bitter taste left just as fast as it had entered. He drank some of the sink water, and then walked out from the bathroom.  
He heard voices. Dean and Bobby, obviously, but they were quiet. Sam snuck to the stairs to listen.   
“Is Sam ok? He doesn’t look real good.” Sam heard Bobby asked.  
“Somewhat.” Sam heard Dean say.  
“What do you mean by that?” Bobby asked. An audible sigh was heard. Sam subconsciously began to scratch at his knuckles.  
“Well, a while ago, I learned he was eating and puking, but it seems after we talked he had stopped.” Dean explained. Sam heard the hints of sadness of in Dean’s voice.  
“Are you sure? I mean, he looks horrible.” Bobby asked. Sam found himself observing his skin, which was awfully dry.  
“I mean, I haven’t seen him, or heard him.” Dean stated, and Sam heard a loud slap, probably from Bobby to Dean. He wasn’t sure where.  
“Ya idjit. This thing is deceptive, Sam’s probably just gotten better at hiding it.” Bobby exclaimed, frustrated.   
“I can’t get him to eat either. I don’t know what to do, you know, I can’t hover over him.” Dean stated. His voice seemed to break. Sam found himself fighting tears. He knew he was destroying Dean, and himself, but he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t ready.  
“I know, it’s hard. This thing is hard, do you know when it started?” Bobby asked. Sam heard another audible breath.  
“When I went to hell.” Dean stated. Sam felt tears beginning to fall as he found himself getting flashbacks from the time when it had all started.   
“It’s been a year then. How he hasn’t been to the hospital from it surprises me.” Bobby stated. Sam found himself thinking to the odd heartbeat he had, and the few dizzy spells from the avoidance of eating, as his blood pressure would drop.  
“Hospital? How dangerous is this thing?” Dean asked. Sam heard Bobby take a long breath.  
“It can be lethal, but I don’t think Sam’s close to that yet.” Bobby stated. Sam found himself trying to be silent with his sobs, and his lips seemed to quiver.  
“Damnit. How do I get him to stop? I’ve tried everything.” Dean asked, desperation in his voice.  
“I’m not sure, this is beyond my expertise.” Bobby stated, his voice defeated. Sam found himself cursing himself. He never meant for it to get this bad. He just needed a way to cope.  
He was destroying his brother, and himself.


	8. Drowned Phoenician Sailor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas becomes involved. Sam's addiction(s) grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, long time no write  
> apologies

Time passed, just a bit. A few months of hunting - seals were being broken far too quickly. Sam was terrified. He was the target, and all this, well it seemed to add up. He found himself almost completely defeated. Along with the hell that seemed to be bulimia, he had a newfound addiction to demon blood. Ruby was to blame. He wanted the power for one, but mainly it was brought upon by Ruby, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight it.  
He was powerless to the addictions.   
Dean hated it. Sam knew that Dean hated it, but to stop would break him.   
He was stuck in the grasp of his own addiction, and one that was brought upon him. He couldn’t blame anyone; the effects from the demon blood weren’t horrible - not yet. He found himself having slight withdrawals when it seemed he couldn’t get a dose. The withdrawals were easy to subside. He just ate and puked. A vice for when another vice was inaccessible.   
Sam found there was a bit of pain. His throat seemed scratched sore, but he could speak. It was nothing out of the ordinary.  
Dean seemed to stop caring, at least vocally. Sam found it almost free reign to be as sick as he wanted; both a blessing and a curse.  
They were on a case, another casual one. It seemed almost too casual, but neither of them questioned it. They were happy to have something different, especially in the midst of the nightmare that lies in front of them. Sam was still battling with himself. He was part of this plan that seemed so out of his control, and he could only be in control through the puking. The binging was barely in his control anymore. He would do it whenever it seemed to come. There was no more fighting it. He just did it.  
It was mid-afternoon, which seemed to be his absolute favorite time to up and eat and puke. Dean was usually busy; either with a case or just with himself. It left Sam to do the research, alone. Which wasn’t a good idea. He would usually get far too much absolute crap food. Cheap, from a gas station usually. He had the bag near him, and just ate while he researched - to take his mind off of the food. It was all just a feeling. He wanted the pain of being full, and then the relief of the aftermath.   
Today was no exception. He had finished the bag of food, and was in the bathroom. He was calm; this action, well it was calm. He just shoved his fingers down his throat, and puked. A normal action, and he would do it until he knew it was all out. Sam was a bit worried with how casual it seemed to be. No care in the damage it did. He was aware that damage had occured. It seemed painfully obvious, but no one seemed to care anymore.   
Sam cleaned himself up and walked out of the bathroom. He stopped. Dean was standing by the door; his face dropped when he saw Sam walk out. Sam just walked by.  
“Anything on the case? ” Sam asked, he observed the way Dean seemed to defeat.   
“Just some small details - it’d be like many others. We burn the bones. We’re done.” Dean stated, and he began eating. Sam sat back at the desk. He found his head to hurt, but it wasn’t pressing. It was really just another pain to ignore.  
“Great, should we just get it over with, or is there more?” Sam asked. He wanted to get out of the dingy town.   
“That’s the thing. I don’t really know yet. I checked. Cremated.” Dean stated. He was frustrated. Sam just sighed.   
“Great, so we find some part of the body.” Sam stated, wanting to sound sure, but he knew he wasn’t.   
“Yeah. We’ll do that tonight. Should be something left.” Dean stated, and the room went quiet. Sam found his fingers tapping. He was just nervous - about what? Well, he didn’t know. The silence remained. There was horrid air in the room. Dean seemed to keep his eye on Sam, who was now picking at the scabs on his knuckles. Quiet. They weren’t sure where to go. If they would scout now, or if Dean would try and squeeze information out of Sam. It never worked - at least not usually, he’d crack sometimes.  
Sam got up, explained that he’d do some asking around. He needed to get out of the space for a bit, the air was far too stale for him.  
He found himself pacing, before going out again. He drove to the nearest gas station. He found himself doing it again. Buying what he seemed to want at the moment. A daze. He wasn’t totally aware of himself. He was scared of himself - especially at this moment.  
Sam drove back. He was both angry and afraid. The food on the side seat. He wasn’t sure how he’d even puke it. The side of the dumpster seemed to be the only space, and even then, Dean has found him.   
He parked the car, and took the bag up the stairs. Voices came from the other side of the door. Dean and well, another. Deep, brooding.   
“I’m scared. Cas.” Dean stated. His voice wavering.   
“I’m unsure of what it is, but you seem troubled by it.” The voice stated. Concerned yes, but confused.  
“He keeps going, and going. I’m scared. I’m scared that one day he’ll kill himself this way. I’ve seen the horror - I know what it does. It’s strange. I’m scared of this, something human, yet ghouls, demons, monsters. They’re nothing, even when he’s in danger, no it’s this. Puking, but he’s doing this so intensely, to himself. I can’t stop it. I feel almost powerless, in a way.” Dean stated. The wavering turned to cracking, and then Sam found himself fighting tears.  
“I’m still not sure what it is, but how can I help?” The voice asked. A large noise was heard, and Sam spooked from the outside. He recovered quickly, and the voices continued.  
“I don’t know. You can zap him right - make him better?” Dean exclaimed. The pain in his voice revealed so much about the state this caused. Sam found himself feeling horrible for how it seemed to make Dean feel. He was the reason, and he still couldn’t stop.  
“I can’t, not this. I can heal physical wounds, but this isn’t.” The voice stated. The footsteps seemed frustrated, Sam just kept standing. His heart sank.  
He didn’t want to hurt Dean, no, this was physically only his own thing. He knew it was all hurting Dean. The blood, bulimia, and everything else. He was scared. He was always scared.   
“I just don’t want to walk in and see him dead, Cas. It’s where he’s headed, if this continues. I know what happens, I’m not stupid.” Dean stated, his voice now angry, yet not with himself or anyone else.   
“I know, and I can try and protect him in that way, but to stop it, well it’s out of my own control.” The voice stated. Sam found himself losing the restraint on his tears, so he ran down the steps, and hid by the dumpster. The food, well, he opened the bag, and ate what he could. A second time in a single day, not unheard of anymore.  
When he was done - his stomach almost knew what to do. He leaned over, by the side of the dumpster. It all came out. He shoved his fingers once more, just to be sure. His head was hurting.  
He cleaned up what he could, at least to the point that was possible, and he unlocked the motel door. The voices stopped, and Sam walked in.  
“What’d you find?” Dean asked. Sam just looked up, before he started to see black spots, and then felt his legs buckle, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also heads up - school's almost done. We're in show creation now - aka I'm swamped with planning, rehearsals, and my own training on my own apparati.  
> So I'll probably not update again for a few weeks.  
> But then I'll be p ok w time (I hope, still have to teach n train)


	9. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confusion, and intrigue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, soz

Sam awoke to a throbbing pain in his head. He found himself at Bobby’s, which was almost predictable. The hospital, well, a horrible decision, especially at this point. Bobby’s was much safer. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable, but it wasn’t horrid. He pushed himself up. Dean seemed to appear in the room, almost too quickly.   
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged.  
“Fine, my head hurts, but nothing else really.” Sam stated, and he sat up fully. He felt a small burning in his throat, but nothing he couldn’t ignore.  
“You’ve been out for a solid day, just to let you know.” Dean stated. Sam blinked his eyes for a few seconds. His body hurt, but it was probably the fall he had. He was fine; there was no pain that seemed to be from the puking.  
“So, you drove to Bobby’s instead of a hospital?” Sam asked. He was both confused and grateful. He hated hospitals, and he also wasn’t ready for anything to change. That was terrifying - to lose the one thing he found he constantly fell back on. Getting better; definitely not on the radar.  
“I asked Cas, he said you’d be fine with some potassium,” Dean stated, and threw Sam a banana. “Eat it.” Dean said, as he glared Sam down.  
“Why Bobby’s?” Sam asked, and Dean just sighed. His shoulders dropped with a sign of defeat. It was to be expected though. Sam almost assumed, but he was never completely certain. A long silence ensued.  
“I didn’t know what to do.” Dean stated, his voice dropped. He was scared, and it showed, he was scared of what could happen to Sam. Sam knew how terrifying it was; he was just as scared of himself.  
“What about the case? We had something.” Sam asked as he choked down the banana. It seemed almost weird to eat without the intention of bringing it up. That had started happening lately - he found himself basically just searching for his next binge, which would just come up right afterwards. He ate some with intention of keeping it down, but it seemed that not much would. It caused the noticeable drop in weight, which was more than the usual fifteen pounds.  
“Yeah, about that, some hair works fine. We’ll need to search the house. It’ll be easy.” Dean stated, and Sam got up. His knees felt shaky, weak, but he felt ok to stand.   
“Then we should go, right? I mean it’ll kill again won’t it?” Sam stated, urgency in his voice. Dean just sighed, and it seemed there was no talk of leaving.  
“Sam, well...I’m worried.” Dean blurted, and Sam seemed confused.   
“About what, I’m fine right?” Sam asked. He didn’t want the conversation - not at this moment. It was horrid. The conversation could be about either the demon blood, or it could be the disorder. He didn’t want either.  
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t change anything.” Dean spoke. Sam heard the uneasiness in his voice. Dean wanted to speak, but he was confused, which made Sam connect the dots. He was at Bobby’s for the conversation he didn’t want to have, so Dean wouldn’t have to do it alone. Dean pulled a chair close, and Sam found himself chuckling. Dean was never this serious, and he could barely believe this. It was almost like a scene from intervention.  
“You’re serious?” Sam asked, and Dean seemed to just take a deep breath, which caused Sam to shut up. It was clearly not something Dean wanted to do.  
“Look, I know what this is, and I know that sooner or later, it will kill you, if nothing else does. I just...I’m worried. I’ve seen you, and I’ve been watching you get worse. Sam, you look dead. You know that right? Cas says there’s no damage yet, not lasting, but if you continue, then, well, it’ll be worse than hell.” Dean stated, his voice seemed almost as concerned as the night before.  
“Yeah, great, well, do you have any idea on stopping? It’s not really that easy.” Sam asked. Dean gave a quick glance.  
“You could just...stop?” Dean stated, blatantly. Sam let out another exasperated and defeated laugh, but it turned into more of a sigh.   
“That’s not how it works, did you do any research?” Sam retorted. It seemed the relationship of the brothers remained the same, even in seemingly trying times.   
“Well, what am I supposed to do? You know? You’re what? Killing yourself, and I just have to stand there?” Dean exclaimed, his voice raising. Sam could tell there was anger, but there was only frustration. A frustration to seemingly himself, and Sam couldn’t help but feel he was responsible for all the tension that seemed to be between the two.  
“I don’t know, I still barely understand myself, you know. If I knew, I’d tell you, anyway, why is it now that you care?” Sam asked, and Dean found himself in silence.   
“It was hell, and yeah, I cared, but you know...I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to, I did. I just…” Dean mumbled on. Sam just sighed. He knew the pain of trying to confront, and then being scared. It was what they did. They basically hid their truths until someone forced it out.  
This wasn’t unusual, but this was such a personal thing, such an addiction; it was terrifying to those involved. Sam feared himself, and Dean feared the damage this was causing Sam.


	10. Everything Sort of Sucks?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hello, I'm back w this one  
> So uh - I'm finally caught up on SPN, so uh, lots of ideas  
> still get major ED vibes from both brothers tbh

Dean kept a tight grip on Sam - almost too tight. It was like a dad trying to keep his thirteen-year-old from dating. It seemed ridiculous to Sam, especially now. It seemed that being the little brother had not changed. If Sam was struggling in anyway, Dean just tried to be the solution to everything.  
But keeping Sam from going anywhere alone, it was the worst solution. There was no release. Sam couldn’t feed his addiction - and it just seemed to cause the pit to grow worse. He was just a ticking time-bomb.  
Whenever Sam was with Dean, he wouldn’t eat. It was the other coping skill he had, if there was no way to binge and purge; he’d starve. While Dean had him on lockdown, and basically handcuffed to his side; Sam just tried to not eat. He’d eat what was absolutely necessary, just to get Dean off of his back, and then just take time to research instead. It wasn’t horrid, but with every period of starvation, well, came the period of binging.  
That would come soon enough - and he just had to get Dean off of his back.   
He felt so ridiculous. To be watched at every moment seemed so stupid, and definitely not a way to help him. It was doing the exact opposite. Sam wanted nothing more than rebel, but he didn’t have the heart to do so.  
Dean pointed it out, whenever Sam would appear to have lost weight. It was more out of concern, but it irked Sam either way. He just wanted to be left to himself - to use his awful coping mechanisms.  
They were chasing some ghost; while the whole angel thing went back to the down-low. They had leads, yes, but nothing seemed to surface. Folks in the town said the usual, and no one wanted to admit all that much.  
It was frustrating, especially as research seemed to halt. Sam had nothing, as the body had been cremated, which made their lives so much harder. It seemed that the diner run had not been helping. Sam just sat at a booth, while Dean basically inhaled a burger. The smell was enough to spark the addiction in Sam’s brain, but he sighed and went back to his work. If he ignored Dean, then it wouldn’t bother him.  
The hunger wasn’t awful, and he found himself using that as a new form of hunger high. The purging gave him a high, but hunger gave him a completely new high - buzzing, as if he had boundless energy.  
It was temporary, and would go away after a few days - if he could manage to either not eat, or just restrict low enough. Which wasn’t too rare. When they worked cases, it was harder for Dean to keep his eyes on Sam. Not long enough for the binging and purging - but enough to throw food out if Dean had thrown it in front of him. This was a new demon, and one that he couldn’t exorcise.   
Sam was left alone for a few moments, so he broke the sandwich in half, put the large part in a napkin, and shoved it into his pocket. The other part was to fool Dean when he came back from the bathroom.   
He watched Dean sit down, and the gaze went straight to the half of the sandwich.   
“You’re eating that, right?” Dean pointed out. Sam just rolled his eyes and took a bite. It didn’t taste good, as it was just rubbery diner food. He choked it down, visible distaste in is expression.   
“How do you eat that so often? It’s awful.” Sam stated. Dean just sighed.   
“Doesn’t the puke taste worse? At least this isn’t coming back up, which would probably taste worse.” Dean sassed. Sam just sighed and went back to the laptop, ignoring the food.   
“It doesn’t taste like anything. Just acid,”. Sam stayed, and then shoved his laptop closed. “We should go, this thing is striking during evenings.” He said, and stood from the booth. Dean gave him a look.   
“Bring the sandwich with you.” Dean stated. Sam quietly mocked him, before following him to the car. He sat in the passenger seat, the sandwich in hand. The other half in his pocket. He couldn’t let it be seen before being able to discreetly throw it away, so he took his jacket off, and wrapped the bulk, just to hide the actuality of the situation.  
He could feel Dean’s peripheral vision burn into his flesh, and then an audible sigh.  
“Jesus Sam.” Dean sighed. Sam just seemed confused. He felt a chill of cold air, and goosebumps rose on his skin.  
“What?” Sam asked, knowing damn well what would ensue. He was left in a t-shirt, which basically put his whole body on display, and that he in fact had lost close to thirty pounds.   
“You’ve lost more, somehow,” Dean stated, coldly. “Why?”   
“Dean. I’m not...it’s not… I’m just-” Sam sputtered, and he found himself closing in on himself. The air was oddly cold for the inside of a heated car.  
“You’re not eating, at least not enough,” Dean pointed out, and the atmosphere changed. “So what? Is this because you’re not allowed to puke?” Dean’s voice began to raise, and Sam just curled in on himself a bit more - hiding now.  
“It’s nothing. I’ve just had no appetite, and you, keeping me on this invisible leash...it’s not helping.” Sam said, his voice beginning to raise.   
“Well, what am I supposed to do? Let you kill yourself through this?” Dean shouted, which made Sam curl even more. He could feel parts of his spine on the seat.  
“I don’t know - just stop treating me like a child, first off, and then, well, telling to just stop isn’t helping.” Sam exclaimed, as he ran a hand on his now almost icy cold collarbones. He couldn’t lie, the weight loss gave him another rush. He definitely couldn’t hate it either.  
“Well, I just, how can I help?” Dean stated, tears started forming in his ducts. Sam found this worse, and started to dig a nail into the flesh of his shoulder. The pain seemed to soothe him just enough.  
“I don’t know. I really don’t, and if I knew, I’d tell you.” Sam stated, he could feel the guilt rise in his throat. He wanted the conversation to just be done - it was awkward enough to be confronted, but to be interrogated on something he didn’t quite know yet, it was worse.  
“If something happens...you somehow puke blood, you feel anything, you tell me, alright? I just...I just want you safe Sammy, alright?” Dean stated, and Sam just chuckled from his hunched position.  
“Yeah, thanks.” Sam stated, his voice just wavered. He wanted nothing to do with anyone. He just needed to eat and puke until everything was numb - he wanted to feel absolutely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also idk how long this'll become  
> circus school is still taking first priority, but I may or may not be choreographing a cyr wheel act in cosplay as winged Castiel


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to help

The grip had loosened up, just a bit, and Sam was finding moments. Frankly they were short episodes, but it seemed to be enough, at least to hold it all over. He could keep himself somewhat in line - just enough to not go crazy.   
He was still hungry - ravenously so. Not being able to consume both the demon blood and masses of food, well, it was driving him crazy. The hole in his body, well, it was so empty. Horribly empty, and it hurt. He wanted to blame Dean for it, but it was his own fault really. He had brought it upon himself - and Dean was just trying to help.  
Sam almost felt helpless in the situation. He didn’t know how to stop this, and it wouldn’t get better. He knew that things were getting worse, especially as he found more solace in the not eating part of it. He had started to stray from the binging and purging. He found that food was slowly becoming more terrifying, a breakthrough from two weeks of having a brother basically attached at the side.  
It almost felt better. Almost.  
Hunger was the thing that kept him tied to the binging and purging, and it was frustrating. He felt so much better when the only things that passed his lips felt safe - which tends to be the same four things; much to Dean’s dismay.   
It was almost terrifying now, to binge. Sam found the whole thing to be out of his control - completely, until he had to go heave into a toilet, from fear of gaining weight.  
He was changing, this was changing, and he wasn’t ready for it.   
Sam awoke in another dingy motel bed. Goosebumps ran down his bare legs. The early morning light illuminated the room in a haze of calm yellow light.  
He blinked his eyes a few times and sat up. It seemed almost too bright in the room, and his eyes ached for the first few moments. His lower back seemed to ache, but that was completely ordinary now. He had been chucked against enough walls for it.  
Sam snuck out of the bed, and went to the bathroom. If Dean was asleep, he could maybe get enough time to shower for longer than five minutes.   
He was thankful to grab a fresh pair of boxers and a shirt from his bag, and went to lock the bathroom door. Much to his dismay, the door had a stupid busted lock, which meant that he would just need to hurry. Dean had a tendency to not knock.  
The water felt warm on his back, beating on his oddly boney spine. He found the heat to be so calming, and the thought of getting out just didn’t seem possible.  
It wasn’t until he heard movement from outside of the door, that he turned the shower off. He quickly grabbed a towel off of the shelf to dry himself, and shoved a pair of boxers on. He noticed footsteps coming toward the bathroom. He quickly pulled another shirt over his head, just to hide his body. He knew it wasn’t great, but if Dean knew the extent, well, he’d never shut up about it.  
Sam hated it.  
The door spooked Sam, as it opened. Dean had finally woken up, and in the sleepy haze had just gone straight for the bathroom. Usual. Sam just tried to hide. He had yet to put his pants on, which left a part of his body so awfully exposed.  
The door closed pretty swiftly after being opened, leaving Sam to finish getting dressed.  
He walked back out into the motel room. The morning light was now more mature. He just sighed. He hated working werewolf cases, but they showed up far too much. This was no different, and the two had to “track the bitch down” - as Dean would say.   
Sam pulled the usual flannel, and a jacket on. The summer heat was dimming down quickly, as the fall began to emerge from September, and he was always cold. It was also the best way to hide his frame.  
“Hey, breakfast.” Dean stated. Sam rolled his eyes, and got up from the bed. Arguing caused more issues than just playing along.   
The two pulled into another diner that just happened to be close, and Sam had ordered just coffee. Dean had ordered some crazy breakfast food.  
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Dean asked. Sam looked down at his coffee, and then back up.  
“I guess I wasn’t planning on it.” Sam stated, staring the coffee down with a familiar nausea in my stomach.  
“And you didn’t actually eat last night either, did you.” Dean pointed out. Sam just looked down, stirring some sweetener into the coffee. The little beads just dissolved in the dark liquid.  
“I ate some of it.” Sam said, quietly.   
“Yeah, but not enough of it. Dude, seriously. You’re basically wasting now.” Dean pointed out. Sam just adjusted his position. He was nervous, again. Even with Dean knowing most of it. The look of pity on Dean’s face seemed to just irk Sam in a way. Dean wasn’t that compassionate, so this tended to be a guilt-tripping technique, and it sadly worked.  
“Fine, I’ll get something just to please you.” Sam stated, and he went to order some salad. It was a go-to. From the outside, people usually assumed it was enough, but on the inside - the whole “lettuce to make it look like a lot” trick was helpful.  
Dean seemed pleased enough, but Sam could tell it still irked him a bit - his eyes gave it all away.  
“Dude, we’re basically ransacking werewolves tonight, you sure that’s all you want?” Dean asked after a bit of a silence. Sam just nodded slowly. He went into a bit of hiding, just to get Dean off of his back.  
“Not right now dude, seriously.” Sam then stated, as he tried to get through the rest of the food - while his whole being protested basically all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh got to see Crystal (from Cirque Du Solieil) - and I'm buzzing w circus ideas rn  
> ahh  
> also still have writer's block - it's taken me too long to get through this one single piece


	12. He's Crazy, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are back at Bobby's, after sometime

Sam could feel everything, yet nothing. Physically, he noticed the way his bones became more prominent. He could feel them when he sat, and how they would bruise with just a slight bit of pressure. Inconvenient, really. Dean didn’t really notice, because of the many layers that Sam wore throughout all hours. He would only ever sleep in less clothing, and even then it was still quite a bit. He was scared of being seen by anyone remotely close. Cas definitely didn’t hide his own concerns about it. Dean was more subtle about it. He sometimes shoved food into Sam’s vicinity, but he just pointed it out mainly. He would voice his concerns, but Cas tended to be the stern parent, while Dean was the concerned brother.   
Bobby hadn’t seen Sam from the last time that he had passed out on his couch. It would be awkward to go back, but that was exactly what was happening. They needed to work a case over in the area, and Bobby was their best help.   
Sam didn’t fully dread it, but it was still terrifying. It was already awkward when Dean was around, but when it was someone he hadn’t seen in a few months, well, that just made it worse.  
His heart was starting to race as the familiar roads grew closer. It used to be nice, to have a place to stay for a few days, but now it would just be an awkward few days.   
“Hey, if we do eat at Bobby’s, do you promise to at least eat something?” Dean asked. Sam pulled his sleeves over his fingers, trying to hide the marks on his knuckles. He hadn’t really stopped purging, but it was far less, only if he ended up feeling particularly awful about food.  
“Yeah, fine.” Sam stated, annoyed. He didn’t want too much arguing throughout the time. It just stressed him out much more.   
They were quiet, and they remained quiet as they pulled into the junkyard of a driveway. Dean parked the car swiftly, and the two got out. Sam stretched upwards, hoping to get some feeling back into his legs, while Dean went to knock.  
The sun was beaming bright, but it seemed to create a false sense of the weather, as it was almost cold. The air was crisp, but not yet frigid. It was a nice time of year, when things seemed to die, only to create anew.  
Sam found this to be a bit of change. Things had changed, and now he stood at Bobby’s as a different person, but not one he was particularly proud of. He lost the sense of pride that came with the first moments of the eating thing.  
“Sammy.” Dean called. Sam snapped his head, and walked towards the door. His fingers were shaking. The two were greeted with a very exhausted Bobby, and walked into the house. Sam headed to the couch, and Dean to the kitchen. That hadn’t changed, not in years. Sam was tired; even just standing was tiring him out. It almost felt ridiculous.  
He heard Dean obviously with food in the kitchen, and assumed part of it was for himself. Dean never left him alone, especially not with food.   
Sam just laid down, trying to do a bit of research on the ghoul. He didn’t really want to hunt more ghouls, but this one was just on an awful rampage, so they had to put it over finding Lillith. It was definitely nice to get away from the whole thing, even for a bit, and go back to the old hunts.  
“Sam, food.” Dean called. Sam rolled his eyes, but walked over anyway, hoping to not cause a scene. It wasn’t much, some peanut butter and jelly sandwich on cheap bread. It was almost laughable, how ridiculous it seemed, but Sam could feel his heart rate increase. It was still just as terrifying. He was officially more scared of a sandwich than Lillith.  
Sam reluctantly sat beside Dean, as he was giving the one look. The one that he had learned from John. It was not a look to mess with.  
He started by tearing into the bread with his hands, and separated some pieces to the corners of the plate, until Dean cleared his throat, which caused Sam to quickly just shove a few pieces into his mouth. He wanted to cry, as per usual, but with Bobby in the room. This felt different. It wasn’t like Cas, no, Cas was blunt. He didn’t care, but with Bobby. It was awkward. He was basically another parent, which meant that the whole thing was more awkward.  
Sam ended up eating the full thing, much to his dismay, as he had already had everything for the day - so the unplanned garbage that this was - it was starting to weigh on him.  
Dean smiled, but Sam just moved back to the living room, and pulled a book out, hoping to forget the feeling. He didn’t want to puke while he was on blast. It tended to be easiest at night, and with his awful digestion, the food would still be there.  
“He’s thinner.” Bobby pointed out to Dean. Their voices quiet, but Sam still tuned in, still pretending to read.  
“You think I don’t know that?” Dean asked, frustrated. Sam had never heard his voice so soft. Sam felt his heart leap. It wasn’t from anything - except for the issues that this caused.  
“It’s critical now, have you seen a doctor yet?” Bobby asked.  
“No, what would they do?” Dean asked. Sam knew. Doctors were not reliable, as they just kept moving, with no actual place to stay. No doctor would be there long enough.  
“Well, explain what it is for one, and then maybe give some helpful advice.” Bobby stated, and it was far too clear. No one knew what to do, but they did care. This wasn’t something common for hunters, apparently, and he had never really heard of males who had eating issues. He just felt crazy.  
“Yeah, well, how will he get better. All the sites I looked at just stated therapy, which doesn’t exactly work for us.” Dean pointed out.   
Sam found a bit of a pain in his head and back. It wasn’t uncommon, but it was so sudden, that it shocked him enough to stand, which caused both Dean and Bobby to turn heads. Sam gave an awkward smile, and started his way to a bedroom.  
Until his vision started to blur, black spots occurred, and he fell to the floor. The pain moved into his left arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello.  
> One month until school begins again - so I'll be busy with circus for sometime  
> but I'll try to get this one done before 30 chapters (I tend to have issues with less than 50k words)

**Author's Note:**

> Also lemme know thoughts  
> totally will continue, but idk


End file.
